Green eyed, am I? Jealous? Hell, yeah! She’s not classically beautiful but her jersey dress does little to hide her shape. Though she has large, perky, butt and breasts and full hips, that woman is proportion. Despite the fact that she wears no makeup, her skin is glowing, hair is ad-perfect: glossy, bouncy, tumbling below her shoulders. There’s a superior smirk telegraphing every woman in the vicinity, look at me, I am loved and I’ve just had great sex! How do I know? They reek of musk. The man she’s with is confident without being overbearing. She is a goddess after all, and he is the recipient of her affection and approbation.
Every straight man in the vicinity is eyeing her up. Each one would probably like to do to the woman what her partner has done.
I’m not normally acquisitive, but seeing and smelling them and being within three feet of that couple as they buy groceries makes me long for something. Not her face and figure. I wouldn’t know what to do with them if they were mine. I’m not interested in her lover either, he’s not my type, but affection, loving caresses? That’s what I miss. My husband and I have been too busy lately to pay attention to each other. That’s the way love goes sometimes…..
I hear a couple in the queue to my left arguing. “Course I seen her.” He spits. “I’m just looking.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. She shushes him.
Another man in the queue to my right rages, “…do you mean me? Well, it’s okay to look. I’m not doing anything…”
My husband and I move up in the queue, as the couple in front put their groceries on the conveyer belt.
The man behind us has dropped an orange, I bend, pick it up and hand it to him. His partner nudges him.
“What?” He says, barely tearing his eyes away from the woman in front’s bosoms.
“Flies can get in.”
“Huh?”
“Shut yer mouth.” She says as she pushes his chin up.
He straightens his back indignantly, “I may be middle aged, but I’m not dead.”
“Not yet.” She mutters.
I catch her eyes and she gives me a chilling smile.
I sigh as I face the front. The stars of the supermarket are about to pay. My husband sees me looking longingly at them, gives me a reassuring caress and says, “Nothing on you, baby. Nothing on you.”
I blush as we gaze into each other’s eyes, sharing the moment.
The couple about whom everyone is talking appears to be oblivious to the stir they’ve caused and saunter away without a care in the world.
Then it’s our turn at the registers. My husband’s hand brushes mine. I catch his eye and he winks. I smile to myself. I can’t wait to get home.
